


Side A: Mixtapes for Roadtrips from Hell

by natcat5



Series: Multidimensional Intergalactic Road Trip [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Growing Up, M/M, Road Trips, Young Avengers Vol. 2 (2013)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4860698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natcat5/pseuds/natcat5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becoming a team, becoming friends, and becoming a family while on the road trip from hell</p><p>(And everybody clap your hands and shout-</p><p>We are young, we are one<br/>Let us shine for what it's worth)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Track 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally posted on tumblr, and also in Side C of this series. Sorry, I've got everything worked out now.

Space is…

Space is…

Is…

It’s…

Indefinable.

Kate settles on that, as opposed to _confusing_ or _mind-boggling,_ or any words that might make the official Avengers, who have been to space _many_ times, look down on her with an expression of mild, but clear condescension. She’s spent _years_ dodging that look, or meeting it head on with as a mature a face as she can pull while trying not to pout. Spending one-on-one time with Clint hasn’t helped, because Hawkeye the older is about the furthest thing from a responsible adult one could find, and hanging around him makes her lax.

But being in _outer space? That_ makes her jaw drop, her eyes widen, and her hands and face press against the glass window like she’s a little girl again, staring out of her daddy’s jet. Except infinitely better, because her dad is nowhere in the vicinity and instead there’s a cute boy dancing in his underwear.

Going off-world has never appealed to her. She’s perfectly fine taking on the back-alley baddies that plague the good citizens of New York on a nightly basis. And occasionally slightly tougher evil-doers like Mobsters and Kang the Conqueror. But the endless expanse of space? Home of the Kree and the Skrulls and everything else? If they come to Earth, crashing New York City like it’s a bad party and needing immediate and merciless ass-kicking, that’s fine. But going out into the great beyond to meet them on their home turf? Aside from the base opinion that space, by virtue of being space, is insanely cool, Kate’s never had any hankerings to take a trip up to the stars herself.

But one wild night out later, followed immediately by a Skrull attack, and then leading directly into a tango with a multidimensional parasite out for her good friend’s nubile young magic? The endless vastness of space started looking _real_ good.

That’s not to say it doesn’t have its downfalls. For example, the sun is absent, as is the moon, so her sleep cycle is fucked to hell. It’s barely been a week, but already everyone’s devolved into ‘sleep when tired, on whatever horizontal surface is available’.

So her phone is telling her that it’s 5pm, New York Time, but she appears to be the only one in action. Loki’s stretched out on the training room floor, allegedly meditating, but most likely dozing. America’s on the ship’s only couch, probably napping, but also likely to snap to attention at the slightest sign of danger. Noh-Varr’s asleep in the cockpit, Billy’s asleep in his room, and Teddy-

Has just walked into the kitchen, and looks as surprised to see her as she is to see him.

Prior to this fiasco, it had been a few months since they last saw each other face to face. Maybe close to half a year, if she’s being honest with herself. She’s been busy! And Teddy’s been…

Teddy’s been with Billy. And Billy, while _miles_ better than he was, has still been something of a homebody for the past while. It feels like decades, sometimes, since they were last a team.

Teddy doesn’t look terribly different. His hair’s cut a little closer and he doesn’t have all his piercings in, which gives him a weirdly respectable look, rather than the punk golden retriever aesthetic he used to sport. His shoulders appear a little broader, he might be a little taller, but he’s holding himself the same. Unimposing despite his size, and tightly held together.

He peers into the kitchen with one hand pressed against the doorframe, hovering hesitantly with his other hand rubbing the back of his head.

“I didn’t think anyone else was up,” he says, as if apologizing. For what, Kate’s not sure. It’s not like this is her kitchen. Or her ship. Or her designated ‘alone time’ where she’s the only one who’s allowed to be awake.

 _Oh Teddy_ , he hasn’t changed a bit.

 “Same,” replies Kate, lifting one shoulder in half a shrug. Then she gestures to the mug of hot chocolate sitting in front of her, freshly brewed and steaming. “C’mon in, the pot’s still hot.”

Teddy shuffles over to the cocoa pot; legs of his too-long sleep pants dragging on the ground. A product of a hasty shopping trip for clothes at a mall in Florida. Which had ended with them blasting away from the foaming-at-the-mouth assistant managers hot on their tail. Whether or not that was because of Mother or because Loki got bored and started animating the mannequins was anyone’s guess. But hey, Kate had snagged a cute sweater before they’d been forced to retreat, so it wasn’t a total loss.

Teddy joins her at the kitchen counter, cup of cocoa cradled in his hands tenderly. He looks a little folded in on himself, like there’s something he’s trying to keep inside, keep together. The way he’s hunched over the counter, staring down at the steaming drink, makes her stomach twist. She spends a few moments puzzling out what, specifically, could be bothering him, and then has to resist the urge to smack herself on the forehead.

 _Kate,_ _I know it’s been awhile, but you need to be a better friend than that,_ she admonishes herself mentally. _That thing trying to kill you is wearing his mother’s face._

That thought is followed immediately by a heavy _Oh Billy,_ because he’s putting on a brave face, but this has to be tearing him up inside. Her desire to shake him is far overcome by her desire to hug him. Or to curl up on a bed with him and let him cry into her shoulder. Because on one hand, _trying to bring someone back from the dead_? _Really Billy_? But on the other hand, he’d said he hadn’t tried to bring her back, he’d tried to pull her away from a moment right before she died. He’d tried to use his chaos magic to do something good. He’d tried to give back to the boyfriend who had lost everything, but still managed to do everything for him.

Talk about ‘when you try so hard and you don’t succeed’. It makes Kate want to punch something. Teddy doesn’t deserve this. Billy doesn’t deserve the guilt for this.

It sucks that the rest of them have gotten yoinked along for the ride, but the occasional appearance of dead parents aside, this can’t be taking the same kind of emotional toll on them as it is on Billy and Teddy.

And she can see it, in the way Teddy is hunched over the counter, face drawn and tired. He needs a hug too. They all need hugs. Hell, Kate could use a hug, and she hasn’t even been assaulted by a parent, living or dead.

They haven’t spoken to each other again yet, and the silence is stretching in a way that’s just a bit awkward. She’d like to say something, maybe a witty oneliner, or a blunt truth to break the ice, but there’s no easy way to say ‘the elephant in the room is the threat of our impending doom at the hands of an interdimensional parasite. So why don’t we talk about something else. Current events aside, how have you been?’

It’s not that they haven’t really seen each other or acted on the same team in months- well, it’s not _entirely_ that. It’s also that there’s still his huge, looming, _unknown_ hovering over all of them like a giant thundercloud. Or weighing down on them, like that time she and Clint ate an entire large pizza and a half only to later discover that the pizzeria had been written up for using expired cheese and suspicious meat alternatives. A heavy, oppressive, _we’re fucked_ feeling.

They don’t know where they’re going, other than away. They don’t know how long it’s going to take Billy to learn the magic necessary to unravel Mother’s spell. They don’t know Loki’s true motive, they don’t know a damn thing about America, and they don’t know how long they’re going to be fugitives from their own parents and every adult in the galaxy.

Soooo… Things are a little uncertain right now. And they can both feel it, standing in the kitchen, basting in their own awkwardness.

“Why so glum, chum?” Kate asks finally, breaking the silence with the first thing that pops into her head. Only to immediately have to resist the urge to slam her head repeatedly against the countertop. Because Really? A rhyme? Really, Kate?

Teddy looks baffled. Like he doesn't understand how that assortment of words could have come out of her mouth at this particular moment, in this situation, which is to say, the situation in which they are being hunted down by a parasite wearing his mother’s face that wants to eat his boyfriend’s soul or whatever.

The baffled expression morphs into a ‘really, Kate?’ eyebrow quirk, and she throws up her hands in resignation.

“I’m sorry! I was at a lost or conversation starters!” She says defensively before folding her arms across her chest. “I am aware of the obvious, which you don’t have to state, so I wasn’t trying to be an idiot with that question, pinkie promise.”

She points a finger at him, squinting her eyes. “We’ve been hauling ass across the galaxy for a week without a single breather. I haven’t seen your puppy faced mug in months. I’m asking for a status update, Hulkling. Spare no deets. Let’s make the smallest of talks to fill in the blanks of the exciting lives we’ve been living.”

 _Kate, you need sleep,_ says a voice in her head that sound suspiciously like Clint, but that’s ridiculous, because Clint doesn’t track hours well enough to know when people need sleep.

Meanwhile, Teddy has gone from baffled to exasperated to bemused, and a small smile lifts up the corners of his mouth.

“Was that your roundabout way of saying, ‘Hi Teddy, how have you been the past few months?’” He asks, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

Kate half shrugs as an answer, hiding her face in her mug of hot chocolate.

“I’ve been okay,” he continues, “I doubt life’s been as exciting for me as it’s been for you. With Barton, right?”

“Hawkeye and Hawkeye partners in purple and love for archaic weapons,” Kate replies, miming the action of pulling back on a bow. “It’s been fun. Not that I don’t like saving the world from high tech alien invaders and megalomaniacs with power over magic and/or time, but it’s nice to just bust your standard back alley creeps for a bit. The kind that slip through the cracks because they’re not blowing up shit with lasers.” _Like the one that attacked me,_ she doesn’t say, but her grip tightens a little around her mug. “Somehow it’s more satisfying then destroying an invading alien spaceship.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” answers Teddy with a nod, “I mean, I had to be more careful when I was busting minor crime and not evil robots or durable aliens, but- I guess there’s a different feel. Between saving the world and saving a person.”

“Not that saving the world’s not important,” Kate adds, pointing her finger in the air, “Can’t have persons without a world.”

“ ‘Can’t have persons without a world’,” Teddy repeats with a snort, “I should make that the blog title of my tumblr.”

“Hey, that is a Kate Bishop original. You better credit and link back that shit.” She says, with a mock seriousness that has Teddy laughing.

“I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep, or if you’ve just gotten sillier hanging around Barton,” he says with a rueful shake of his head, still smiling, “It’s nice talking to you Kate, you don’t update your Instagram nearly enough for us not to miss you.”

“The problem with Instagram is that sometimes baddies who are aware of your secret identity use it to find out where you’re currently letting loose and not on your guard,” she replies with a remorseful smile.

She doesn’t miss that Teddy had said ‘us’ just now. And that’s reassuring, right? That he’s still referring to himself and Billy as a singular unit. Not that Kate’s _worried_ about Billy and Teddy, per se. Those two seem pretty locked down, for better or worse. Red string of fate, missing pieces of a whole, or two wholes that just worked better when together. The teeth-rotting, unbearably cheesy stuff that Kate never seems to quite pull off herself.

But Kate also knows that Billy’s been having a tough time, and that while Teddy had still been greening up and brawling with evil-doers on the street, Billy hadn’t. He’d still been shut in, hurt by Cassie’s death, by Jonas’s death and Nate’s betrayal. It had hit him the hardest, and it had clearly still been hurting when this parasite nonsense happened, making everything worse.

She’s worried.

“Okay, sorry, gotta ruin fun laugh times where we talk about everything except what we’re actually thinking about,” says Kate, raising one hand in the air, “I have questions.”

Teddy looks perplexed, and then, apprehensive, peering at her from over the rim of his mug with one eyebrow raised again.

Kate inhales, “How has Billy been?”

There’s a long pause then, and Kate can see Teddy tense up, and then try and act like he didn’t just tense up, and then look uncomfortable and unhappy while struggling to find his words.

“You mean since…” he gestures wildly with one hand, “All this? Or before. After the team broke up?”

“Before,” she says, and then, “And after. I mean, he just seems…I know shit’s kind of hitting the fan, but, you know Billy used to be like, if shit was hitting the fan, he’d be charging in with a smart ass remark. Like, he was so stubborn and thickheaded that you could uses his head as a battering ram. And I’m not saying a little less impulse is a bad thing, it’s just-,”

She remembers to stop for air and lets her babble of words cut off mid-sentence, staring down into her cup.

It’s empty. Dammit.

“He just seems really subdued.” She finishes, “And I know I’ve been off doing my own thing. And we text but- maybe it’s shitty of me to ditch you guys and then suddenly ask how you’ve been.”

“You didn’t ditch us,” says Teddy firmly, and then with a sigh, “We- I guess we all kind of ditched ourselves more than anything. It’s like Billy said. We’re superheroes, and we tried not to be, and it all kind of backfired on us.”

Teddy looks miserable again, and Kate makes a face, because isn’t this exact situation and sad face that she had initially set out to avoid?

“This isn’t yours and Billy’s fault you know,” she says, and sharpens her eyes into a glare at the ‘sure it’s not’ look Teddy gives her in response.

“No, I’m serious,” she snaps, “Like, some less than thought through decisions were made, but you heard mini- evil Norse God, that bait was designed to catch young mages eager to do some good in the world. Billy didn’t so much summon a demon as fall into a trap. And that’s different. He can’t blame himself for this.”

 _Not entirely anyways_ , she doesn’t say. Because while it is prudent for people in leadership positions to point out when team members have made less than stellar decisions with less than stellar consequences, she really doesn’t think now’s the time for it. Especially since Teddy’s looking really torn up.

“Kate, I understand, but you can’t deny that we messed up really badly,” says Teddy, and she can hear him fighting to keep his voice level, trying to stop it from shaking. “If I hadn’t gotten upset with him over- God it’s so stupid, I knew how much the battle with Doom affected him and I knew there was more to him not wanting to do superhero stuff, but I did it anyway, and got upset when he found out and got upset, even though I _knew_ he’d be upset, but I still-,”

“Teddy-,”

“If I hadn’t said the things I did, he wouldn’t have used his reality warping magic. He wouldn’t have even seen the bait, let alone fall for it. It’s my fault as much as-,”

“No, nada, _stop.”_ She interrupts, putting on her leader voice for the last command and making an X with her arms. “Fault lies with, A- interdimensional parasites who are evil, and B- good intentions being taken advantage of. And Teddy? Take it from me. Blaming yourself into a corner is no way to move forward and to learn and to grow as a person.”

Teddy’s eyes move from the counter to her face, and she can see it, see him remembering the reason she quit as well. The guilt that had sat on her shoulders almost as heavily as it had on Billy’s.

His eyes skirt away and he takes another drink of hot chocolate.

“…He finally moved away from that window, and I thought that was it.” He says quietly, “I thought, he’s gotten over it, he’s stopped blaming himself, he’s ready to move on. But…he still didn’t want to do superhero stuff. Even after we got recognized as Avengers, which is what we always wanted, he still didn't…”

Teddy trails off, looking frustrated.

“I didn’t understand,” he whispers, “I think I still don’t. His Mom said it was depression, when he was by the window, but because it was caused by grief and trauma she didn’t want to rush to meds or anything like that. Thought it would be best to give him time. And then he left the window and it seemed better.” He takes a deep breath, fingers of one hand pressed against his cheek, “But looking back now, he still didn’t want to _do_ anything. And I, I didn’t _get_ it. If he was off the window, if he was better, he should be more open to the idea, right? Of going back to superheroing? And then I ran out and started doing stuff behind his back and got upset at him when he got upset at me. But now, I’m thinking, that maybe I just wasn’t seeing it. That even up until then, he was still…”

“You think he might still have been depressed, like, as in the illness and not the state of being,” Kate says, filling in the silence, “And you think he’s been depressed the entire time, and you’re beating yourself up for not noticing. Which, you need to stop right now, seriously.”

“We _live_ together, Kate!” says Teddy sharply, “His parents have work and his brothers have school. But Billy and I go to the _same_ school, we spend basically all our time together, if anyone should have noticed- There is literally no reason for me _not_ to have noticed.”

“Unless, communication isn’t a thing?” Kate suggests, not letting Teddy’s angry tone get to her, “You’ve been busy secret superheroing and Billy’s been not talking about his feelings so you both have been having to do a lot of guesswork? Seriously, you guys are nearly perfect, but even near perf couples have to slow down and have heart to hearts sometimes. You can’t expect yourself to know everything about your significant other if you don’t open up to each other.” She grimaces, tapping her fingers against the side of her empty mug. “So…maybe work on communicating better in the future. But like I said, dwelling on past mistakes? Not the way to move forward.”

Teddy blows out a breath and rubs his forehead with one hand before pushing it back through his hair.

“I can’t even tell if I’m just overreacting,” he mutters, “I mean, if he was depressed, this would just make it worse, right? This…this thing with Mother and with being on the run and his parents getting possessed. But he seems more focused, and more determined, and you know, like he’s okay with being a superhero again. Not like he was just forced into it. I don’t know.”

“Again, communication, says I,” Kate replies, pointing a finger, “Seriously. If you don’t know, then talk to the boy. If you’ve got worries, air ‘em out.”

“I know,” mutters Teddy, in a tone of voice Kate totally doesn’t trust, because it sounds like a ‘I’m avoiding problems currently and so I’m not going to do what you just suggested’ voice. Stupid teenage boys.

She’s about to call him out on it too, but then Teddy lifts his eyes up from the counter and looks at her, smiling faintly.

“…he’s still pretty stubborn you know,” he comments, a fond look on his face, “Don’t let him fool you. I mean, he doesn’t talk shit as much as he used to, but if you caught him at the right time you could still use his head to break down the gates of Troy.”

And is she going to let that slide? This blatant changing of conversational direction so that he doesn’t have to talk about what he doesn’t want to do?

_Sigh._

“You kidding?” retorts Kate with a tired smirk, “He can’t say two words to Loki without talking shit. I think maybe you’re just too distracted by his pretty face.”  

A relieved smile blooms across Teddy’s face, and he immediately launches into a tale of some time some person said the wrong thing to them when they were walking down the street, and Billy laid the verbal smackdown on them, while wearing the nerdiest Stark Trek shirt known to man.

He’s clearly glad to move onto a more lighthearted topic, a happier memory, and Kate lets him. She nods and smiles attentively, tired, but happy to be with her friend again. She’s missed them. Teddy and Billy. And Eli and Tommy. And Jonas. And Cassie. Everything that they were before they got their first real taste of loss.

But it’s like she told Teddy, it’s no use painting yourself into a corner with guilt and bad memories. The only way to go is up and forward. She’s suffered but she’s stronger for it. And she thinks it’s the same with Billy, focused on getting his magic right and fixing the mistake he made. And she thinks it’ll be the same with Teddy too.

She’s still worried about them, and she’s worried about herself, and she’s worried about this ramshackle new team that’s been thrown together out of necessity more than anything else. But she’s missed being active, and she’s missed talking to Teddy, and she’s missed worrying about Billy and his reckless, easily bruised heart. And she’s got high hopes for their future. High hopes for good things coming out of this road trip from hell. They just need to give it time.

Her watch says it’s half past 5pm in New York, and she’s blasting through the deep expanse of space, surrounded by a trillion stars and chased by a dangerous dimension-hopping parasite. She’s finally on a team again, with two of her best friends, and while the situation’s a little bleak, she can’t help but be hopeful. Space is the place of limitless possibilities, after all.

 _The perfect place for us,_ she thinks, and smiles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Track #1 - Place for Us by Mikky Ekko. 
> 
> I was planning to have the actual playlist posted by now but my internet is too crappy to upload so it'll have to wait.


	2. Track #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's canon that Loki has a crush on Billy('s magic) right?

Being who he is, and being _what_ he is, it is a rare occurrence for Loki to be impressed by the power level of a mortal being. Rarer still for him to be impressed solely by _potential._

That said, he’d need diverse lexicons from several different languages to fully convey how intrigued and excited he is by the cloud of pure _possibility_ that hovers around one Billy Kaplan.

The boy (and Loki’s aware of the irony of the address, considering his own state) currently has his eyes narrowed in concentration, a low blue light faintly emanating from them. There’s a hum of magic in the air that makes the hairs on Loki’s arms stand up – again, no easy feat.

Billy’s fingers twitch and Loki feels the magic in the spellcircle _lurch_ and _surge_ to try and reach him, to try and twist to his will. It lingers, straining against invisible constraints, before falling apart. The spell unravels, the magic in the circle fades away, and Billy throws his hands up in frustration, making an angry, unintelligible teenage sound.

 “I don’t understand why this isn’t working,” Billy huffs, “You said I just had to-,”

“There’s no _just_ anything, Wiccan,” interrupts Loki with an admonishing finger wag. “Magic is a delicate business. You need to stop trying to bend the spell through sheer force of will. The spellcircle lays out channels for you to send magic down to make sure it works properly. You need to find them, and use them. I’ve told you time and time again, if you want acceptable results you need to learn to colour within the lines.”

Billy does not look so much chastised as disgruntled, and he mutters something under his breath that may or may not have been ‘your face needs to colour within the lines’ before turning his attentions to attempt number seven.

As far as pupils go, Billy is a strange combination of ridiculously stubborn and easily discouraged. He never gives up on a lesson, regardless of the number of attempts it takes to execute it correctly. But he gets frustrated with himself and his magic easily and is prone to short fits of desolateness and dejectedness. Furthermore, he responds to criticism with all the grace of a porcupine.

And of course, there is the _small_ issue of Loki being unable to give Billy adequate criticism without revealing certain things that need not be revealed. Little things. Things like Billy’s magic inherently refusing to conform to the recognized laws of spellwork. Most likely due to the possibility that sometime in the distant future he’s going to rewrite those laws in their _entirety_. Little things. Little, infuriating, _tantalizing_ things.

The way the magic twists when Billy calls for it – it’s not normal. It’s a product of that _potential._ And it makes teaching classic spells and casting methods infuriatingly difficult. The magic wants so badly to do Billy’s bidding. All of reality and the countless possibilities that make up the fabric of existence itch to bend to his whims. It’s no wonder he’s pulled off so much accomplished spellwork in such a short time despite having no instruction or training. His magic is absolutely ridiculous in its capabilities and in its unorthodox executions. It’s _remarkable._

“This is like threading a needle,” mutters Billy through grit teeth, the glow of his eyes pulsating, “I understand why Dr. Strange meditates all the time now. It’s taking all my focus just to keep this steady.”

 _For you, it’s threading a needle, for everyone else it’s concentrating the magic flow for efficiency and more power generation._ Loki doesn’t say that though. He’s of the opinion that it’s best _not_ to tell young master Kaplan just how powerful he’s going to become. Or already is. Or always has been. One Miss Chavez would agree with him, and they so seldom agree on anything.

“Then I suggest you concentrate,” chides Loki, “I’d rather we didn’t set anything on fire again. I don’t think Noh-Varr has vehicle insurance.”

Billy snorts once before refocusing his attention on the spell, brow creasing. Loki can feel as his magic batters and slams against the guiding lines of the spellcircle, rebelling against the standard groundwork needed to execute a successful spell. It’s like a child throwing a tantrum. His magic _hates_ being told what to do. It hates that the circle is trying to channel it a certain way, trying to make it conform to patterns and runes. All it wants to do is break down the walls and get from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible; circumvent those efficient pathways and guiding lines entirely.

Put simply, Wiccan’s magic would rather act as a battering ram than take the time to figure out how to open the gates.

And the delightful thing is, if it wasn’t for Mother, it would be _working._ This is how Billy’s been using his magic for the past two years. Just breaking through the walls of reality and the rules of magic like they’re nothing. And now, he’s being forced to learn how to do things the _reasonable_ way. The methods used by all self-respecting spellcasters who understand cause and effect, cost and gain, balance, efficient use of mediums, protections, runes, circles, and all the things required to pull of the kind of magic Billy is used to performing by _wishing really hard_.

Loki would be annoyed if he wasn’t so enthralled.

Because this, these lessons, this forced new approach to using his magic? This is the start of something big for young master Kaplan. He’s spent so long just blasting away with raw power, and now that it’s been more than halved he’s being forced to refine his technique, learn the tricks every other magic user in the universe uses to maximize the amount of output generated from modest amounts of input. If Billy were to use everything that Loki is teaching him when he’s at full power, with Mother gone…

Well.

There’s a reason Loki’s orchestrated all of this. There’s a reason he’s invested in this trip. And it’s not because he likes getting pile-drived by an angry dimension hopping USO wannabe.

Magic that will reverberate through future and the past. An impossible existence birthed from the mind of an unstable witch tampering with powers she didn’t understand. Inherited reality warping powers that have little kickback, take little effort, and are limitless in their possibilities. It’s as extraordinary as it is intoxicating.

 “I think it’s working,” murmurs Billy, the glow from his eyes now solid and powerful, reflecting the light from the circle, “Loki, is it…?”

“ _Yes,”_ Loki breathes out, feeling the sharp shift in the air as the magic snaps into place and _intensifies._ Everything vibrates as Billy’s headstrong power finally aligns itself to the lines of the spell, coursing and pulsing through it. The circle itself throbs, before expanding considerably across the floor of the room. The runes creak and strain, abused by the chaotic magic, until they _change._ Transform into larger, more intricate versions of themselves. Spill from the floor and begin creeping up the walls, blazing with the same light as Billy’s eyes.

“That’s supposed to happen, right?” he asks, lips barely moving.  

No, it’s really not. “Yes, of course,” assures Loki, eyes glued to the still evolving spellcircle. “See? You’re doing fine.”

What Billy is doing is expanding and enhancing spells just by exposing them to his magic. Unconsciously. By accident. His magic refuses to be tamed so it makes up its own guidelines as it goes along. Alters it. Changes it to suit its own whims. Warps reality. Rewrites the rules.

What Billy is doing is beginning the process that is going to lead to the biggest magical event since…since ever. And when Loki, a God, says since _ever_ , it holds a bit of weight.

Loki has tingles. The good kind.

The lesson ends shortly after. Billy’s tired, Loki’s hungry, and their training room’s beginning to smell a bit like burnt challah. Generally a sign that it’s time to call it a day.

Billy sighs and leans back on his hands, blowing a few sweaty strands of hair out of his eyes.

“I wish I could pick things up faster,” he says quietly, eyes downcast, “We’re just- we’re stuck just _running_ until I’m good enough at this stuff. If it takes me ten tries to get everything you teach me, we’ll be running forever.”

“Actually, you only took seven tries this time,” Loki corrects, and grins uneasily under the dirty look Billy shoots him in response. “And don’t sell your talents short. You’re doing reasonably well considering the circumstances. You’ve never received formal instruction before, and your magic is very-,”

Unprecedented in power level. Determined to defy convention. Already trying to rewrite the laws of magic out of sheer spite.

“-ornery.”

Billy raises his eyebrows for a moment, before his entire face downturns, expression fading into something subdued and shadowed.

“Ornery,” he repeats, mouth twisting, “Usually people go with ‘chaotic’, but yeah, I know.”

Oops. Loki may have hit a sort spot there. Billy’s shoulders are hunching defensively, and his countenance has morphed into something best described as _sulky_. This is about the time when Loki vacates the premises and summons a certain Skrull heir or young hawkling to the premises. Loki’s no good at feelings jams. Really. He has no sense of tact, an inability to stop himself from making clever quips, and is, at his root, the embodiment of the word obnoxious.

“This whole mess is my magic’s fault,” huffs Billy, who unfortunately appears to have missed the memo and is still talking, “And I can’t even get it to work right in order to fix things.”

Sigh.

The thing is, Loki does feel bad for Billy. He’s been swept up in events that are beyond his control. Trapped between Loki and Mother, both enraptured with him because of a destiny he has no knowledge of. As far as Billy’s concerned, the blame for their current predicament rests solely on his shoulders, and Loki’s not about to tell him differently. The contrary nature of his situation delights certain, ancient parts of Loki, and makes the newer parts twist with pity. Billy feels powerless, unable to change his circumstances, while in actuality he’s standing at the cusp of unlocking a limitless reservoir of power within himself. Standing on the precipice of an existence in which he will be able to change past, future, and all of reality with only a thought.

This is why Loki wanted to be here. This is why he wanted to have a hand in these events. Because this is it, he’s positive, he _knows_ that this unfortunate adventure is the tipping point between Billy the baby witch and Billy the God.

Of course, the requirements of godhood extend far beyond simply having an impressive store of power. In fact, power ranks very low on the list of qualifications. A fortunate stipulation, considering the power levels of some of the superheroes and mutants running around these days.

No, what is most important in terms of divinity is _story._ It’s what forms gods, binds them and traps them. It’s the template from which they’re based in every incarnation, the root form from which they can deviate little. And Loki is very interested in just what story will take hold and form the Demiurge.

Against all odds, he hopes it’s a happy one. After all, they don’t need _two_ malevolent gods with reality warping powers running around, do they?

“You can’t fault your magic for it’s nature, Billy,” Loki says shortly, toeing the line between matter-of-fact and comforting, “And there’s nothing wrong with a bit of chaos.”

The look he gets in response for his efforts is a true Billy Kaplan glare™. Complete with the little displeased nose wrinkle that makes him look more like a disgruntled kitten than anything else. Good effort’s been put into the glower in his eyes though; Loki gives it a solid seven out of ten.           

“You _would_ say that,” snaps Billy, all accusatory, “Nothing wrong with a little destruction and disorder for the God of Mischief, right?”

It’s a gross oversimplification of his nature, of the foundations lain beneath his story, and Loki bristles. But more pressingly for their situation, it’s a fundamental misunderstanding of the concept that defines Wiccan’s magic. And if he’s to bloom into the multidimensional god that Loki’s hoping he will, that fear and misinterpretation of his own power just won’t do.

“You think all there is to chaos is destruction and disorder?” he demands, folding his arms across his chest, “Your earth scientists would disagree, I’m sure. Is it not their belief that a ‘Big Bang’ caused everything to come into existence? An explosion of disorder and destructive forces that resulted in the birth of _everything?_ Wiccan, _the universe began with an act of chaos.”_

There’s a reason Chaos Magic breeds reality warpers. Creators. Individuals who can reconstruct entire worlds with thought and will. It can break apart as easily as it can put together and Loki would viciously tenderize several legions of the universe’s toughest armies for the chance to have such a power beholden to him.

But Chaos Magic is volatile, even to those who it selects. And it selects so very few.

Billy better damn appreciate what he’s got.

At the moment, young master Kaplan looks a little caught off-guard. Uncertain. Hanging out with the Avengers crowd, Loki’s not surprised Billy is unused to hearing good things about Chaos Magic. For such a diverse group of individuals, they’ve got a deeply ingrained inclination for intolerance.

But Loki’s here now, and he’s made it his mission to correct all of Wiccan’s bad habits and misconceptions and help pave his pathway to the stars. For no other reason than to bear witness to his rebirth. Really. No other motives _whatsoever._

“You shouldn’t fear your own magic, Billy,” Loki continues, tone a little gentler this time, “And it’s of human nature to fear what one doesn’t understand. It’s exceedingly important that you learn more about your own powers. Only then will our lessons proceed at a faster rate.”

True enough. There’s so much that Billy doesn’t know about magic. Someone as powerful as him should be able to feel his magic as if it were a living entity all its own. Should feel it breathe and pulse, like lungs and heart. And if he were to do that, he’d be able to feel the way it reacted to conventional spellcircles, understand what needed to be done to get it to fit to standard spellwork. Understanding one’s magic was fundamental to mages, just as understanding one’s story was indispensible for gods.

Loki’s considered electing himself Billy’s unofficial deification tutor as well, but he’s fairly certain America would actually send him into orbit if he tried.

“Alright,” replies Billy, exhaling heavily and pulling one hand through his hair, “Alright, I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” retorts Loki cheerfully, “But that’s what we’re aiming to rectify, yes?”

Billy Kaplan glare™ makes a triumphant return, and Loki lets out a short bark of laughter.

It’s exhilarating, invigorating, and _exciting._ Mishaps and setbacks aside, Loki is thrilled to be along for this ride. Thrilled to be here, to be influencing events, to have a front row seat, to be _teaching the future Demiurge magic,_ and vibrating with anticipation at what the fruits of his labours might bring.

The future is mostly uncertain, but there is undeniably something big waiting on the horizon.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Track #2 - Something Big by Shawn Mendes
> 
> "The universe began with an act of chaos" is a line I lifted right out of my tumblr drabble [On Chaos](http://natcat5.tumblr.com/post/125716919974/young-avengers-drabble-on-chaos). It was too good not to use again.


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